LETTER XIX. TO MISS BEAUMONT.

OH my dear friend, my astonish­ment and joy are unspeakable. I had re­mained alone about half an hour, my mind distracted with a thousand thoughts, when I was roused from my reverie by hearing the great door below open; and condemning myself severely for a gratifi­cation so weak, dangerous, and improper, I hastily tried to compose my features, and rose to meet the company; when instead of the Heathcote family whom I had expected, Mr. Howard and my sister entered, attended—conceive my astonish­ment Sophia—by Roatsley himself.

[Page 2]After disregarding your promise of waiting my return, Miss Seymour, cried he, probably you did not expect I should so soon make my appearance to reproach you: but though I believe I have some engagement or other with Bradshaw this evening, I found myself quite unable to withstand Mrs. Howard's kind and press­ing invitation to sup here. The remem­brance of the delightful evening I spent at Dover (which I shall ever regard as one of the happiest of my life) renders the temptation wholly irresistible.

His appearance did indeed agitate and surprise me beyond measure; nor could I conjecture how it had taken place, at such an hour and at a juncture so unex­pected, till Fanny in a low voice con­trived to inform me, that in pursuance of her projected plan of operations she had deferred leaving the theatre as long as with propriety she could, and indeed I suspect rather longer; for she owned all [Page 3] the ladies were gone and only a few strag­gling gentlemen continued to saunter about. Captain Bradshaw, however, still kept by her side; and Roatsley returning, heard with evident marks of disappoint­ment that I was already gone.

Perceiving my sister's unaccountable delay, he naturally concluded that her carriage was not arrived, and politely asked leave to see after it. Fanny, more and more embarrassed, now beheld the total defeat of all her secret schemes to avoid detection, and was at length obliged to confess that as the way was so very short and the night so very pleasant she thought walking by far the most agreea­ble way of returning; after which decla­ration wishing Roatsley a hasty good night, in hopes she should get rid of all the gentlemen, she quickly led the way, accompanied, added she in a tone of cha­grin, by poor Mrs. Heathcote and the [Page 4] five children, all wrapt up like so many Egyptian mummeys.

Roatsley however, with a politeness na­tural to him, followed, and offering his arm, begged she would allow him the pleasure of escorting her part of the way. With great civility and a profusion of thanks, Mrs. Howard made violent re­sistance; but in vain; Roatsley made his point good, and had attended her as far as the bottom of the hill when they were met by Mr. Howard, who could do no less you know than request that he would walk forward and partake of a family supper at Hubert Hill. To this, after some hesitation, he consented; and the parson's family, having seen Fanny safe under her husband's protection, very opportunely chose to excuse themselves from accompanying her farther, and jumped one after another over the style which leads through the fields to the par­sonage.

[Page 5]You cannot easily conceive, Sophia, after the train of ideas which had pre­ceded his appearance, how singular and extraordinary it now appeared, when I recollected what pique and displeasure his silence to Mr. Howard's letter had a few days before occasioned me. I could scarce believe he was now at Hubert Hill; and when I contrasted his present flow of spirits with his dejected aspect two hours before, every thing appeared mysterious and unaccountable.

Were my dear, dear Sophia now pre­sent, said I to myself more than once during the evening, she would confess that blind partiality has not guided my pen in my representation of this amiable young man.

When our repast was concluded, Mr. Howard and Fanny, charmed to per­ceive their guest to all appearance fully as much pleased with their company as they were delighted with his, both joined [Page 6] in entreating him to accept of a bed here. To this some slight objections in regard to inconvenience were on his part made, and easily overruled by the good lady of the mansion, who proposed dispatching Dubois to the village with orders to his servants and an apology to Mr. Brad­shaw; and in short he at length complied. The wine and fruits being placed on a small table before us, all ceremony and form seemed entirely discarded; and we chatted together with a social familiarity and cheerfulness, which a long series of occasional meetings in town could never have produced. We were all in uncom­mon spirits; and Fanny, in the giddi­ness of her mirth, let several little sallies of naivete escape her which seemed ex­tremely to please and amuse her visitor. Chance has hitherto so contrived it, that my sister has seldom or never been much the object of Mr. Roatsley's attention; but he appeared this night to regard her [Page 7] in a point of view wholly new, and en­tered with much relish into the natural simplicity of her character.

As yet, however, nothing had been hinted relating to the proposed explana­tion. Had Roatsley been tete a tete with any of the company, doubtless it would have been an easy matter to have led to the subject; but while the whole family were met together, to have enquired into particulars which from the agitation I had betrayed he could not but naturally conclude were of a very delicate nature, I doubt not must have appeared a pre­sumption for which he could not sum­mon resolution. Wholly unsuspicious besides how nearly he was himself inte­rested in the tale, all he could possibly conjecture in regard to what he was to learn must have been, that in gratitude for the obligation he had procured me, I thought it incumbent he should be made acquainted with certain circumstances of [Page 8] my situation which he had reason to ap­prehend might prove a painful and not improbably a mortifying communication.

Silent therefore he continued on this topick, tho' most amusing and agreeable on a thousand others, till my sister and I retired, which was not till after one in the morning, an hour unheard of in the sober annals of Hubert Hill.

I did not shut my eyes for many hours after I went to bed. The distant mur­mur of the two gentlemen's voices be­low, who did not separate till almost sun rise, engaged my constant attention; and a thousand conjectures and reflections re­lating to the subject of their conversation, entirely banished all inclination to rest till about my usual time of rising, which at this season is seldom after six. I then slept for a couple of hours; but finding it so late when I awoke, I hastily rose, and had but just finished dressing, when Mr. Howard tapped at my chamber door [Page 9] requesting me to follow him into my sis­ter's dressing room.

Impatient beyond measure to learn the substance of last night's conversation, I flew rather than run into the room, where I found Fanny almost as eager as myself.

Mr. Howard then related circumstan­tially and minutely every word that had passed.

The moment we had left the parlour, Roatsley addressing himself to Mr. How­ard, said—to you, my dear Sir, I think it must be wholly unnecessary to observe that to be but once in company with the amiable Mrs. Howard and her sister without feeling the warmest interest in their happiness and the most anxi­ous solicitude to promote it to the utmost, is scarce possible; that I have experienced the truth of this remark, I hope you do me the justice to believe, and—

[Page 10]Your conduct, Sir, interrupted Mr. Howard (to whom I had hinted the task that was likely to devolve upon him) fully evinces the warmth of your bene­volence, and claims the just gratitude of all this family.

Talk not of gratitude, I entreat, cried he. If through the interest of my family I have been so fortunate as to render a slight service to Miss Seymour, damp not the pleasure it gives me by attaching to it an idea of obligation it so little me­rits; or if (for you will find I am willing to make the very most of the favour) if I can flatter myself with having enjoyed the happiness either of obliging Miss Seymour, or on her account of having gratified your wishes, will you give me leave to point out to you how you may cancel the obligation at once and make me most sincerely regard myself as your debtor.

If I have the power, Mr. Roatsley, re­turned [Page 11] Mr. Howard smiling, be assured the will is not wanting.

The power of granting my request, I must conclude you are in full possession of, since it is by permission of Miss Sey­mour I venture to make it; and allow me to premise, that without the sanction of her approbation and consent I cer­tainly should not have had the presump­tion (however anxious) to demand par­ticulars into which I have no title but from her indulgence and your's to pene­trate. Will you however favour me so far as to inform me of such circumstances of her present and past situation, as may enable me to judge in what manner I may perhaps one day have it in my power really and essentially to serve.

If your present enquiry reaches only to pecuniary matters, Sir, returned Mr. Howard, I have the pleasure of assuring you that in regard to that circumstance, Miss Seymour's situation has never been [Page 12] so extremely uncomfortable as I have rea­son to believe was suggested to you. My wife's fortune, and her sister's, amounted originally to twenty four thousand pounds; but the sudden death of their guardian, who had the sole management of this money, and who has left his affairs in the most embarrassed and involved situa­tion, in all human probability will reduce the sum to one tenth of its value. This certainly is a reverse to be lamented; but the mind that is wholly untinctured with avarice, seldom allows such morti­fications to inflict a pang either deep or of long continuance, and I am certain it has never proved the source of more than a transient regret to either. Alas! human life is replete with distresses and anxieties which reach nearer to the heart, which pierce it in its tenderest feelings, and wound it where it is most open to the attack; and disappointments of this na­ture, against which both my wife and sister [Page 13] have had to struggle at a very early pe­riod of life, have wholly blunted and obliterated the little rubs of adverse for­tune.

I dare not venture to be inquisitive, said Roatsley, visibly affected by the pic­ture drawn by Mr. Howard, yet will you call me so when I acknowledge that both my curiosity and compassion are strongly excited. Remember however in my justification, that Miss Seymour her­self permitted the enquiry, and if I mis­take not seemed astonished it was yet to be made.

You ought not to wonder at a circum­stance so natural, said Mr. Howard. Miss Seymour's astonishment, great as it must have been, can scarce exceed mine to find that her cousin, the grandson of Lord Belmont, remains still uninformed of the natural ties that exist between them, especially after the unsuccessful applica­tion made to his Lordship through the [Page 14] medium and interference of Lady Lin­rose for his countenance and favour.

At the expression "her cousin, the grandson of Lord Belmont," Roatsley caught suddenly the arm of Mr. Howard; and unable to interrupt him even by an ejaculation, remained rooted to the spot on which he stood in mute astonishment.

Good heavens! cried he, at length re­covering himself—is it indeed possible that this amiable family, who so forcibly engaged my intetest and attachment al­most in the instant that accident presented them to my sight, should really prove the children of my late unfortunate un­cle, and connected with me by the ties of blood as they have ever been by those of regard and admiration. Permit me, my dear Sir, continued he, approaching Mr. Howard with open arms, to congra­tulate myself on this delightful informa­tion, and pray give me leave to flatter myself with the hopes of one day pro­curing [Page 15] an interest in the affections of my dear and valuable relations almost equal to what they have long possessed in mine.

Mr. Howard was not a little affected by this generous warmth, as apparent in his countenance and manner as in his language, and expressed his feelings on the occasion in strong terms.

But why has this explanation been made no sooner? cried Roatsley. Why have I continued so long in a painful and lingering uncertainty in regard to a fa­mily so respected and so beloved? dis­tracted and confounded by the most un­just representations, dark suggestions, and at best vague and comfortless con­jectures.

Who may have found either interest or pleasure in fabricating or in circula­ting injurious reports of your innocent and amiable cousins, said Mr. Howard, is not possible for me to conceive, nei­ther will I lose a moment in attempting [Page 16] to confute what must appear so wholly unwarrantable and unjust, that I shall leave it entirely to time and intimacy to prove it so in the fullest extent.

Unnecessary is the proof, cried Roats­ley with warmth, for false and malicious I have ever believed those reports to be. Yet you, my dear Sir, I am persuaded will be neither astonished nor offended, when I acknowledge that a multiplicity of disagreeable rumours continually reaching my ears to the disadvantage of those, of whom from the surer evidence of my senses I had the most amiable opi­nion, could not fail to shock and torment me; and if you can suppose a state in which you could just so far credit an as­persion as to allow it to teize and perplex you, without permitting it to influence your judgment, paradoxical as that state may seem it is exactly the situation under which my mind has for some time past laboured.

[Page 17]Far from being surprized, returned Mr. Howard with his usual candour, I think I should only have been so had you continued immovable and determined in your first prepossessions, when such infi­nite trouble and attention have been be­stowed to warp your judgment and mis­lead your sentiments.

But my mother, you say, was in the secret. Pray how came she to be in­formed, while I and the rest of the family remained wholly ignorant and unsuspici­ous that my fair cousins had ever dreamt of quitting the secluded spot where they received their education.

That any individual of Lord Belmont's family should continue uninformed of any step taken by the ladies since their father's death, was by no means either their intention or mine. To their rela­tions no secrecy was requisite; and in regard to others, a temporary conceal­ment was merely thought necessary, be­cause [Page 18] it offered an easy method for escap­ing the impertinence of curiosity and in­vestigation; and they naturally deferred relinquishing the name by which they had always hitherto been known, till the sanction and countenance of Lord Bel­mont should enable them to support the cruel retrospections which they knew their father's memory must sustain on their introduction into the world. An utter and absolute rejection from his Lordship to their application for acknow­ledgment, soon pointed out the fortunate propriety and delicacy of this precaution, as they afterwards disdained all thoughts of assuming or proclaiming their title to a name, of which their family, however unjustly, deemed them unworthy.

You open a transaction so entirely new, wonderful, and inconceivable, cried Mr. Roatsley, who had been attending with an expression of amazement in his coun­tenance to this speech of Mr. Howard's, [Page 19] that I can no otherwise hope to reduce it to my comprehension than by entreating you to favour me with a minute and re­gular detail of every circumstance.

Mr. Howard then beginning at the unhappy epocha of my dear father's mis­fortunes, related briefly yet with preci­sion every particular respecting him and his children till the period of our arrival in England.

In regard to many of these events, said Mr. Howard while he repeated to us this interesting conversation, I could not suppose Mr. Roatsley compleatly igno­rant. It may be naturally inferred that those who could traduce the innocent offspring would not fail to load the pa­rent's memory with additional reproach, and I doubt not but Mr. Roatsley's mind has been early tinctured with the most contumacious prejudices against his ill fated uncle. To know his errors, inde­pendent of the penitence and remorse [Page 20] which so powerfully extenuated and even obliterated his guilt, could not but mis­lead the nephew's candour, and must have induced him to regard with unabated horror a conduct that was followed by consequences so unhappy as to banish him for ever from his friends and coun­try.

I therefore dwelt with particular ener­gy on the dismal lapse of years spent in sorrowful seclusion that had succeeded to your father's rupture with his family, and continued invariably till his death: his contrition, his sufferings, his rectitude and benevolence, and the assiduous care with which he incessantly laboured (and in which he so well succeeded) to instil into the minds of his children every vir­tuous and amiable sentiment, as a bar­rier against the temptations and vicissi­tudes of a world that from a too fatal experience he believed strewed with dan­gers and replete with misery: and in or­der [Page 21] to enforce this relation, I promised to procure him a perusal of the manu­script written by your father's own hand, which, as he seeks not in it either to pal­liate or conceal his faults, but breathes in every line that horror which ever at­tended the sense of his offences, offers a defence, the force of which candour must admit and justice itself acknowledge.

As Mr. Roatsley did not attempt to interrupt Mr Howard, he proceeded to acquaint him with our arrival in town, our disappointment in regard to Mr. Benseley's decease, our application in this uncomfortable and friendless situation to Lord Belmont through the medium of Lady Linrose, and with every particular of the interview on that subject with her Ladyship.

He next recapitulated the substance of my letter to my grandfather, imploring his favour and protection; and in answer to this, said he, taking out of his pocket [Page 22] book the epistle written him on that oc­casion, pray take the trouble of reading his Lordship's final determination from the pen of Lady Linrose.

During the latter part of this relation, Mr. Roatsley's countenance betrayed an agitation and astonishment that gave de­fiance, Mr. Howard said, to all powers of expression. His perplexity, after read­ing the letter, seemed but little abated. He was for some moments lost in thought; but at length breaking silence —all that I can possibly conceive, cried he, all that it is in my power to conjecture or comprehend in this affair, is, that my mother having been herself deceived by the injurious aspersions fabricated by the infamous woman Brumpton, which have been circulated in town with a credit that astonishes me, dreading the impetuosity of my temper, which might induce me to disoblige Lord Belmont and even to act in open defiance of a prohibition so [Page 23] unjust, so inhuman, so wholly contrary to his natural character and benevolence, in consequence of her apprehension of creating that discordant dissention which ever leads to alienation of affection and of­ten to a total breach of family unanimity, has determined on concealing carefully from my knowledge every circumstance of the application; yet I must acknow­ledge myself extremely displeased at a step, which has been the means of re­taining me so long in uneasiness and un­certainty, and the more I consider the circumstances of the whole transaction, the more I am astonished and bewil­dered. To imagine that Lord Belmont, if properly apprized of the situation of his granddaughters, would allow an ob­stinate and hardened prejudice to arrest his justice, to influence his humanity, and even to banish natural affection from his bosom, is a supposition to which I cannot for an instant give credit; it is to [Page 24] believe him scarce human, and devoid of the first and most powerful principle of our moral construction. My mother in­deed labours under a cruel misrepresen­tation, to which she has unfortunately given implicit faith, and which it has never been in my power to confute; for more than once have the Miss Seymours, though their names and some vague re­ports concerning them were all I con­cluded she knew, been the subject of discussion and even of altercation between us. Violently prepossessed against them previous to their application, her accounts may have perhaps influenced Lord Bel­mont's determination, even without her intending or dreading the injustice which her representation of their characters may have occasioned.

This indeed in some measure accounts for her Ladyship's conduct, and even greatly exculpates her from the charge of selfish and interested views. While she re­garded [Page 25] us in the light of relations who were likely to reflect dishonour upon our family, and who could bring no consola­tion to the desolated bosom of our grand­father, it cannot be supposed that her mediation in our favour would prove fervent, nor that her anxiety for our suc­cess could be as sincere as if our conduct had supported our claims. Her cold re­ception of Mr. Howard, and her distant reserve to myself, are here fully explained; and while the motives of her Ladyship's conduct are cleared up, a distant hope opens to view, that her prejudices being removed, those of our only surviving pa­rent may yet listen to truth and yield to the voice of nature.

Is it not surprizing, however, that the infamous designs of this wretch Brump­ton in aspersing our reputations, should have so extensively spread the slander as to reach the ears of a person who moves in a sphere so superior, so distinct [Page 26] from that wicked woman's line of life, and that these calumnies should have flown with such rapidity; for Lady Lin­rose must have learnt that we were un­worthy of her notice almost as soon as she was informed that we solicited it. Mr. Howard's letter indeed, she received before her departure from her country seat, had afforded her an opportunity of being made acquainted with any particu­lars; but during the short interval be­tween her arrival in town and her confer­ence with Mr. Howard, our busy ene­mies must have contrived to sow the seeds of that contageous distrust and disgust, which then proceeded to infect and influ­ence Lord Belmont.

This conversation having detained the two gentlemen till extremely late, they then separated and went to rest; though not before Roatsley had reminded Mr. Howard of his promise to intercede with my sister and myself to procure him a [Page 27] perusal of the manuscript to which in his narration he had so often alluded.

So pleased, so affected was I with this relation, that it was with difficulty I could restrain my too visible emotion; and I willingly gave into Mr. Howard's hands the dismal packet, the mere sight of which as it lies in my bureau often saddens my gayest moments.

Mr. Roatsley has been up some time, said Mr. Howard; and anxious to pre­sent himself to you as a near and tender relation, has waited the hour of your rising with all the impatience of a dear and long absent friend.

Mr. Howard and my sister then went to join him in the breakfasting parlour; but afraid to discover an agitation too poignant for the occasion, interesting as it was, I chose to remain a few moments behind in hopes of acquiring some degree of composure.

The instant my sister appeared, Roats­ley [Page 28] with open arms and a countenance in the highest degree expressive of kind­ness and delight, approached her. Mr. Howard, cried he, are not cousins blest with peculiar privileges, and folding her in his arms, he embraced her with the tenderness and familiarity of a brother.

So our cousin does not desert us, cried Fanny, receiving his salute with equal ease and pleasure.

Good heavens, my dear Mrs. Howard, I hope you do not confess ever having for a moment harboured a suspicion at once so unnatural and injurious.

Just then I entered; and quitting my sister's hand, he hastened to seize mine, which he kissed very fervently more than once, though with a degree of embar­rassment, and even of distance, yes even of distance Sophia, which did not in the least influence his address to Mrs. How­ard.

A variety of sensations, a conflict of [Page 29] emotions, in defiance of all my sum­moned calmness and resolution, wholly deprived me of utterance. Will you not acknowledge me, my dearest cousin, cried he. At these words, you will blush for my weakness Sophia—(I'm sure I do most painfully at this moment, even at the recollection of my folly)—I burst into tears, and hastily pulling away my hand, turned from him in silence and ran out of the parlour.

A moment's reflexion shewed me what an unaccountable appearance my, beha­viour must have had to all present. With­out allowing myself therefore an instant for hesitation least my spirit should eva­porate, I wiped my eyes and forced my­self to return.

I blush for myself, said I on re-enter­ing the parlour; and my cheeks suffi­ciently proved how true was the confes­sion; but as I have never before enjoyed the happiness of knowing but one male [Page 30] relation, it is no wonder that the acknow­ledged presence of another should bring the first so forcibly to my memory as wholly to overcome my feelings.

In sheltering my weakness under this little artifice, I was hardly guilty of de­ceit; for though my tears did not at that instant owe their source to this cause, the very idea had during the night drawn showers from my eyes; and I could not help believing, that if our beloved father locked down upon his children, he must witness with pleasure, even in his angelic state, this re-union with his family.

Mr. Roatsley only replied by pressing my hand tenderly in silence; and per­ceiving the subject as yet too affecting for my spirits, he forbore dwelling on it, and shifted the conversation to topics less interesting. My heart was indeed so completely awakened to softness and sensibility, that the keenness of my feel­ings gave even to my glad emotions the [Page 31] tincture of melancholy; and while the most heartfelt satisfaction lightened my countenance, a tear, which all my ef­forts could hardly dispense, was ready to follow every smile.

Of our breakfast conversation I can really give you no account. Indeed I believe it is conferring an unmerited compliment on what passed to dignify it with the name of conversation. A hun­dred different topics were occasionally touched upon; but not one pursued with any method or connexion. Fanny's mirth was giddy and unbounded; Roats­ley himself appeared in uncommon spi­rits; and though I perhaps was not the most talkative of the company, I believe my silent satisfaction was so apparent that I was far from appearing the least pleased.

Soon after breakfast he took leave of us in the kindest manner. I am unfor­tunately engaged, cried he in answer to the pressing invitations of my sister and [Page 30] [...] [Page 31] [...] [Page 32] Mr. Howard, otherwise undoubtedly I should not have been proof against the friendly and obliging request of my new found relations, but while I remain in the county, which I think of doing for some time, I flatter myself you will allow me often to be your guest.

He then departed, followed by Mr. Howard; who having some business in the village, accompanied him on horse­back part of the way.

Fanny and I, left then to ourselves, talked over every circumstance of the transactions of last night. We made a thousand reflexions, you may believe, upon the singularity of our situation, and formed various conjectures upon the con­duct of Lady Linrose and the unaccount­able silence and secrecy she has observed; which we could not avoid attributing in part to selfish motives.

My sister dwelt with pleasure on the tenderness of her cousin's behaviour on their first meeting. Had I never seen him [Page 33] till now, said she, the warmth of feeling with which he acknowledged a connexion so repugnant to the wishes of his family must instantly have gained my heart. On approaching you, I observed he was more distant; and I confess the differ­ence struck me obviously. His address to me was that of a kind and long absent relation, who expressed in that character, with affection and familiarity, the plea­sure he felt at the rencontre; to you his behaviour seemed to betray more of the timidity of the lover than the undisguised kindness of the friend.

O certainly it resembled the timidity of a lover extremely, cried I in an ironi­cal tone, and I am afraid rather pee­vishly, for Fanny burst into a loud laugh.

Nay, cried she, I really think you have some reason to be jealous; for it must be confessed I am grown a prodi­gious favourite since last night, and be­fore, you know, he used to be so en­tirely [Page 34] engaged in another quarter, that he never could give himself the trouble to speak nor to listen to me, and seldom seemed even conscious I was in the same room with him.

She was diverting herself at my ex­pence, when Mr. Howard returned. Pray Fanny, cried he, what is it that amuses you?

Nay I dare not tell for my ears, re­turned she, for Hermione will beat me; but smiling expressively, she sung these two lines from the entertainment of Mi­das:

She needed not have stopped there, for words could not have contrived to ex­plain more clearly what she pretended to conceal, and Mr. Howard's countenance expressed a momentary smile, but as if he was desirous of relieving my embar­rassment, [Page 35] which was indeed extreme, he instantly entered on a new subject, tho' the rapidity with which he did so, by confirming my apprehensions of suspi­cion, gave me very severe mortification.

He soon after began to join warmly with my sister in praise of our cousin's amiable qualities; and with an enthusi­asm which delighted me, though I hardly ventured to appear attentive, recapitu­lated the conversation he had had with him during their ride. Though we have suffered so unaccountably from the breath of fame, said he, it has at least rendered us justice to this young man, whose cha­racter rises upon me every opportunity I enjoy of conversing with him. I have just been receiving some farther lights in regard to the ignorance in which he has continued thus long, and which appeared so extraordinary after the information given us in Mrs. Hindon's letter; but he has just now told me that during the [Page 36] conversation he had with my sister in law that evening at her house, she touched so lightly on particulars, supposing him already perfectly informed of the most material circumstances, that not a hint escaped her which could have led him to discover his connexion with you. All I learnt from her was, said he, that the two ladies had been unfortunate, were in­volved in consequent difficulties, and that an application to Lord Belmont (I con­cluded for his interest towards obtaining a pension) had proved unsuccessful. My anxiety could not fail to be strongly ex­cited: yet as the opportunity in a large company was unfavourable for entering more fully on the subject, I intended, for farther information, to apply next day to Mrs. Hindon, when I hoped to find her disengaged and at liberty to sa­tisfy me; and in the mean while I deter­mined to enquire of my mother what she knew of the affair, as I understood from [Page 37] some words dropped by Mrs. Hindon, that she had interested herself in the ap­plication. I seized the earliest moment I could lay hold of to mention the mat­ter to her, and next morning at breakfast asked her if she had ever been told that two young ladies of the name of Seymour, ladies whose names she had often heard me repeat with every expression of admi­ration, had besought my grandfather's interest towards procuring them an an­nuity from government. My mother's answer I perfectly recollect. She told me she believed such a demand had been made by the ladies in question, but that disadvantageous reports circulated a­gainst them had arrested his Lordship's intended exertions in their behalf, nor could he think of applying publicly in favour of girls, whose conduct by all ac­counts would reflect but discredit upon those who interested themselves in their affairs.

[Page 38]It was in vain, continued Mr. Roats­ley, that I combated these unjust imputa­tions with all the arguments in my power, and appealed to your character (as their guardian) so fully established in the eyes of all favoured with your acquaintance. My mother coolly answered, that men even of the strictest probity were not likely to withdraw their protection on ac­count even of the most flagrant impro­prieties of conduct in young girls com­mitted to their charge, and that it was more than probable they had even im­posed on you with a borrowed appear­ance of that merit which art could easily assume and beauty sufficiently enforce. This, she said upon second thoughts, seemed indisputably the case, since a single evening spent accidentally in their company had rendered me so warmly their friend, and had induced me so ro­mantically to espouse their cause, though totally uninformed of their characters and [Page 39] connexions. They were unknown in this country, even by my own account; (for I had mentioned that circumstance as a motive of compassion) their same was dubious at best: and such miscon­duct had been laid to their charge, that even this phrase was a charitable one.

I warmly demanded from whom this slanderous intelligence had been received, and was at length unwillingly informed, that the woman with whom you lodged when in town had acknowledged to my mother's maid that the connexion be­tween the ladies and their guardian was much too intimate for the distance re­quired between a gentleman of character and his wards.

Shocked and confounded, though per­fectly satisfied of the infamous falshood of this scandalous aspersion, I was deter­mined to have the matter fully explained, and instantly went to the woman's house, where having entered into conversation [Page 40] with her I enquired particularly about her late guests. Her answers were am­biguous and evasive: and I soon per­ceived the character of the landlady was such as must render all information from that quarter false and injurious. I there­fore soon quitted her, first reprimanding her for the infamous aspersions she had expressed, and assuring her that the la­dies possessed friends who would loudly confute and rigorously punish those who might utter them. I returned home furnished as I imagined with proofs and arguments more than sufficient to over­throw the most determined prejudices. But my mother would hardly allow me to enter on the subject; and telling me neither herself nor I had any interest in the behaviour of two girls who were unknown to her even by sight, and she was afraid fully as unknown to me by character, al­though the acquaintance of a few hours had enabled me to judge so perfectly of [Page 41] their dispositions, positively declared she should on no account be prevailed with to intercede with Lord Belmont in their behalf. I now perceive her motive, concluded Mr. Roatsley, for retaining me in ignorance. Prejudiced herself against my cousins before she was in­formed of their real name and situation, she was unwilling to strengthen a prepos­session which might lead me to act con­trary to the commands of Lord Belmont, whose will in matters of the most trifling moment has ever been regarded as a law in our family, and who it seems has positively forbidden the protection or countenance of my mother to be ex­tended to these amiable relations. In­deed she might well dread the impetu­osity of my temper on such an occasion would but ill brook the constraint of a prohibition so unnatural, and well might she know that no Lord Belmont on earth would have prevailed with me [Page 42] to join in a measure, which reason and humanity must condemn, and the most inflexible prejudice only could adopt.

I shall not comment on this conversa­tion, Sophia. It speaks for itself. Adieu my love. My packet is immense, but I rest assured you do not complain of its length. I direct it to Avignon, as you desired, me in your last; from which place I expect soon to receive a long volume of your journal.

LETTER XX. TO MISS BEAUMONT.

YESTERDAY I walked out as usual in the morning, intending to strole [Page 43] through the wood, attended by one of the parson's little girls, of whom my sister is extremely fond, and who often finds her way up the hill and spends the day with us. She is a delightful child of five years old, with a countenance animated and blooming as the spring; her flaxen hair curls round her face in ringlets so picturesque, that I imagined she would be an admirable subject for my pencil, and have accordingly drawn her in crayons, caressing a favourite lit­tle dog who always accompanies her in her visits. The portrait has surpassed my hopes; for I have succeeded tolerably well, both in the resemblance and atti­tude, and it makes a very ornamental piece of furniture for the drawing room. Since that period, the child had been continually teizing me to draw a little picture as a present for her doll; and as children, when they have got a whim in their heads, are unceasing in their impor­tunities, [Page 44] she persecuted me during our walk to set down to work on a sheet of paper which she had brought in her hand from the house for that purpose.

The scene here is romantic beyond imagination. The river, that murmurs below at the foot of a gentle descent, is shaded by the most venerable oaks, which sometimes form a thicket wild and sequestered, and in other places ad­mit views of a most fertile and beautiful country; which being embellished with the plantations surrounding the splendid seats of several gentlemen of the county at a distance, and ornamented with a nearer sight of the spire belonging to the parish church, exhibits a prospect of gaiety as well, as grandeur. A walk that is cut in the slope of the bank, is my favourite resort, and so well calcu­lated for soothing into a languor not un­pleasant, any oppression which rests upon the mind, that I found it peculiarly [Page 45] suited to the present state of my spirits; and to rid myself of Charlotte's impor­tunities, I at length sat down on one of the green seats, and pulling out a pen­cil began to trace a little rough sketch which soon satisfied the child, who em­ployed herself in running about gather­ing nosegays from the wood flowers that adorned the banks of the river.

Having the pencil in my hand, I be­gan almost unconsciously to delineate upon the cover of a letter, features so deeply engraven on my mind, that I required not the presence of the original to enable me to recollect every trait of expression with accuracy; and a few strokes, though incorrect and unfinished, soon exhibited a resemblance, to which, innumerable as have been my secret at­tempts on the same subject, I had never before attained.

Charmed with my success, I gazed with delight on the drawing which pro­mised [Page 46] to be the private companion of many a solitary hour; and so wholly absorbed was I in contemplating my per­formance, that I heard not the sound of steps that approached me, till a voice almost at my ear said—I hope I don't disturb your meditations, Miss Seymour: and suddenly looking up, I beheld Roatsley immediately behind me.

Conscious apprehension made me in­stantly start up in confusion; and the paper dropping from my hand, a light breeze which just then seemed to rise for the purpose of plunging me into difficulties, got hold of it, and quickly conveyed it down the slope of the bank below.

Uncertain whether he had a glimpse of it or not, and unable to recover my­self sufficiently to affect unconcern, I ut­tered not a word, but followed the fly­ing cover with my eyes, in which anxiety and embarrassment were so strongly [Page 47] painted, that Roatsley instantly added— what a world of mischief have I been guilty of, and directly flew to recover it.

For heaven's sake, exclaimed I in absolute agonies, for heaven's sake don't think about it. It is not of the slightest importance; it is a trifle, a drawing, not worth the trouble of picking up; and catching hold of his arm, (for I knew not what I was doing) just as he had arrived at the spot where a bush ob­structed its progress—For God's sake come away, repeated I with a vehemence the most ill judged and absurd, and so far beyond what the occasion could pos­sibly require without the interest of some secret cause, that no wonder he stood with his eyes fixed upon me in mute astonishment. The look of perplexity and surprise with which he regarded me instantly discovered to me my foolish imprudence in giving way to an alarm that had in fact no real foundation, and [Page 48] from which a small degree of self com­mand and presence of mind might have relieved me. I then heartily repented my folly; but alas! it was too late, and I only discovered my unfortunate ab­surdity time enough to lament its effects.

We were both silent for a few mo­ments. At length —I cannot think any thing a trifle, said he, with a flush on his countenance, that gives Miss Seymour such visible uneasiness; especially—a drawing too—added he hesitating. The subject of her solitary contemplation. Allow me at least, Madam, to restore to you what appears of such infinite value; and darting forward, he caught the pa­per in his hand.

Sir, cried I, with a spirit which the present exigency alone could have in­spired, and with all the firmness my ter­ror gave me courage to assume, only hear me: if you cast one look on that paper, [Page 49] never will I pardon, never will I see you more.

This speech certainly was frantic in the highest degree. It was acknowledg­ing the truth of his hint; it was allow­ing him to conclude that the drawing was the resemblance of some person dear to my heart, since my agitation appeared so uncontroulable; but my imprudent uneasiness from the beginning must I imagined have infused these suspicions by this time strongly into his mind; and shocked to the soul at the apprehension of my heart being thus laid open in a manner so mortifying, so dreadful, to the man on earth from whom I most wished its weakness concealed, this sud­den prohibition struck me as the only possible means of preventing immediate detection.

He still held the paper in his hand, and would not be prevailed with to re­store it; but he made no attempt to exa­mine [Page 50] it. I dare not risk your displea­sure, cried he, with a countenance ex­pressive of uneasiness and suspense. To be banished from your sight, and the object of your hate, are ideas too horrible, too insupportable to be thought of; yet are they almost the only punishments that could at this instant so forcibly operate on my mind as to arrest my impatience and deter me from satisfying my burn­ing curiosity.

Give me the paper, cried I; it be­longs to me—it is mine—

And is dear to you, interrupted he with a voice almost suffocated, and hold­ing it above my reach: say that it is dear to you, and I will indeed fly your sight for ever.

No, cried I, 'tis nobody—'tis nothing —it is not of the least: consequence— only give it me, or I never will forgive you.

Little Charlotte perceiving this al­tercation, [Page 51] just then came running up to us. Is it the pretty gentleman's picture, cried she, for I had been imprudent enough to allow her to look over me while I was roughly sketching it.

A gentleman's picture, repeated Roats­ley. Yes that it must be, and the resem­blance of the most blest, the most envied of mankind.

No, cried I, with an imprudence which I shall deplore to my latest hour but of which my exhausted spirits made me unconsciously guilty, I almost hate him at this instant, and (oh! Sophia, you will blush the deepest crimson for me) I burst into tears.

These words, and the manner, the warmth with which they were pro­nounced, alas! too plainly discovered the fatal secret. Scarce had they escaped my lips, when their too obvious mean­ing was apparent to myself. My feel­ings were then unutterable, but con­scious [Page 52] that my folly could not be recalled, I saw no consolation but in flight, and turning away with all the expedition in my power, I was flying down the bank towards the Chinese bridge, when Roats­ley, too violently agitated to perceive the presence of the child, suddenly seiz­ing my hand, prevented me by throw­ing himself at my feet. Miss Seymour, cried he, with an energy which must have surmounted all opposition had re­sistance been in my power—lovely and adored Miss Seymour, stay but for an instant. That secret passion which has proved the torment of my life so long, how shall I stifle or conceal in a moment like this? how shall I suppress the per­haps too fatal presumption to which it gives birth! For the sake of heaven, al­low me either to put an interpretation on your present agitation, which will overwhelm me with a transport almost too infinite to be supported, or at once, [Page 53] by withdrawing your prohibition, dash my delusive hopes and punish my aspir­ing folly as it deserves.

Oh! Sophia, what were my sensations at this speech. I tried in vain to disen­gage my hand; and having at length effected it, I covered my face with both, and almost sunk upon the ground. Roats­ley, alarmed at my situation, hastily arose, and obliging me to lean on his arm, supported me almost fainting to a bench that encircled the trunk of an ancient sycamore not far distant.

Weakness for a few moments sus­pended shame, but soon my strength re­turning, my confusion redoubled with a violence unspeakable. During this short interval we were both silent, and Roats­ley alternately kissed the hand he held in his and the drawing which he had now ventured to examine, and which he re­garded as the assured pledge of my af­fection. Oh! my Sophia, feel for your [Page 54] friend at this moment of emotion. Con­ceive if you can my sensations. But in­deed that is wholly impossible. I was overwhelmed with shame, covered with blushes, and my pride most painfully wounded: the severity of the mortifica­tion I endured made me wish that I could sink into the ground and for ever conceal myself from the eyes of Roatsley, who gazed on me with a delight chas­tened by a degree of diffidence that seemed to aim at reconciling me to my­self.

Pardon me, loveliest of women, cried he the moment he saw me beginning to recover, which I no sooner did than I attempted to rise—pardon the man who adores you—who would sacrifice his life, his happiness, for your's.

Just as he pronounced these words with the most passionate warmth, little Charlotte, who had been present during the whole of this distressing scene, a cir­cumstance [Page 55] which our mutual agitation had prevented our discovering, came running forward, and surprising him upon his knees, stared at the singularity of his attitude with a look of curiosity and surprise that quickly restored both his recollection and mine.

Roatsley started from the posture from which I had before repeatedly entreated him to rise without effect, and instantly getting up to leave him, I declared that on no account I could remain longer; and unable to meet his eyes, quickened my steps towards the house.

Stay but for a few moments, said he in a low voice, but in the most earnest manner; leave me not in this agonizing suspense I beseech you.

My confusion and perplexity having somewhat subsided, my heart began to taste the felicity of knowing (distressing as had been the circumstances to which I owed the discovery) that what I felt I had [Page 56] not been incapable of inspiring; but at this moment the recollection of Lady Elizabeth and his engagements rushing upon my mind, shame, resentment, and anguish, all at once assailed me; and recalling with bitter regret the weak­ness I had betrayed and the professions which compassion perhaps alone had extorted, I pulled away the hand that Roatsley had again seized, and hastily said—you have egregiously deceived yourself Sir, and I own I am justly to blame in having partly given cause for the deception; but I desire you will leave me, and allow me to return in­stantly home. I shall be seriously dis­pleased if you persist in detaining me; and having slightly curtseyed to him, though without venturing to regard him, I redoubled my pace and arrived at the house, not having once looked back.

On entering the hall, my sister ran to me. Hermione, cried she, what have [Page 57] you done with yourself all the morning. I have been sending to the hut and all over the wood to find you: for pray who do you think is about to honour us with a visit, but our condescending Right Honourable relation, Lady Linrose.

Lady Linrose! repeated I in amaze­ment.

Yes, her servant has been here with a card informing us that her Ladyship is on the road to wait on us, and entreats the favour of being allowed to see us one half hour in private.

Just as she spoke a carriage and four drove up to the door; and scarce had we gained the parlour, when Lady Linrose herself entered it.

She approached us with a look of the most engaging and affectionate familiar­ity. I may well dread the reception I ought to meet with, said she, taking a hand of each; but if the countenance is to be trusted, I will venture to hope [Page 58] that a behaviour which I have been un­willingly constrained hitherto to support will not, when its motives are candidly examined, utterly exclude me from the prospect of obtaining your friendship.

Confounded by an address so unex­pected, we bowed in silence; and my sister leading to the sopha we all seated ourselves.

I am now venturing on a step, re­sumed her Ladyship, which I have long ardently wished it in my power to pur­sue, but which even at this moment is so dangerous and daring, that the exi­gency of the present occasion, and a due regard to my own character only, can excuse or palliate my imprudence. I have long most anxiously desired the op­portunity of a moment like this, in which I could fairly and candidly lay before you the motives of a conduct which must doubtless have appeared to you harsh, cruel, and unfeeling. Alas! you knew [Page 59] not, that while duty withheld from you the protection to which you so justly laid claim, slander and injustice united to render the prohibition on my part easy to fulfil. Lately, but very lately, was I made acquainted with the value of what, by the commands of a parent, I am deprived of enjoying—your friend­ship and society. No sooner however was the veil taken from my eyes, than my mind became uneasy till it had ac­knowledged its injurious prejudices; and some alarming circumstances, to which I must entreat one quarter of an hour's attention, have at length deter­mined me to hazard the danger of Lord Belmont's displeasure, should this act of disobedience reach his ears, rather than continue to appear in a light so injurious to my heart, so contrary to my real feel­ings.

Having received a bow of acknow­ledgment from my sister, and an assurance [Page 60] from me that the present apology en­tirely obliterated all recollection of what once perhaps we might have considered as unkind, her Ladyship proceeded.

I must in the first place sincerely ac­knowledge, continued she, that I have no adequate apology to offer for having given credit to aspersions which I have since found so perfectly ill founded and unjust; but perhaps you may be kind enough to admit some sort of palliation from the utter ignorance in which I had been retained respecting you. That I had such relations, was merely all I knew; and no sooner had I received Mr. Howard's letter, than I determined in my own mind to afford you all the civility, kindness, and attention, to which your youth, sex, and situation in a quar­ter of the world entirely new, justly en­titled you, especially as it was not diffi­cult for me to perceive you were the same agreeable party which my son had [Page 61] encountered on his journey, with whom he had been so much charmed and in whose favour he had so much prepos­sessed me. Had he been with me at the moment of my receiving the letter, I should undoubtedly have instantly yielded to the warmth of my compassion, and entrusted him, however imprudently, with the secret of your birth and con­nexion; but indispensible business had hurried him from me almost immediately upon his arrival, and time being given me for consideration, I foresaw how pre­carious and perplexing was the part I had now to act. Lord Belmont's character was well known to me. Though rigid in principle and fervent in benevolence, his prejudices are rooted and immovable; and a prepossession once fixed in his mind, allows neither reason nor humanity to interfere towards its extirpation. What steps he might pursue were doubt­ful and my fears greatly overbalanced [Page 62] my hopes as to the generosity of his con­duct. These reflections, though com­bated by my secret wishes, determined me to stand aloof till his Lordship's re­solution was known; and if possible, by guarding the secret carefully from my family and more especially from my son, whose warmth of feelings and impetuosity I particularly dreaded, to preserve them from the wrathful effects of a displea­sure from which I myself have suffered too severely not to apprehend it with terror.

I intended to hasten to town; but some previous business of real moment deferred my journey for some little time, and an alarming complaint, but of short duration, confined me so closely for a few days after my arrival, that I had no opportunity for transacting the business that had occasioned my removal, and which from the necessity of preserving it a profound secret I was unable to ma­nage [Page 63] by an agent. During this interval, anxious to get information through every possible means of the situation of my young relations, in regard to whom I felt myself extremely solicitous, it may be easily conjectured that I attempted every channel of intelligence, and made enquiry of every person whom friendship or intimacy allowed to visit me during my confinement. I was constrained to mention you however merely as agreea­ble, accidental acquaintances, whom my son had represented to me in an engaging and favourable point of view, and your very names were unknown to all to whom I applied, my son's friend Mr. Bradshaw excepted; who informed me that he had the honour of residing under the same roof with you, but whose light and dis­respectful manner of expressing himself shocked and confounded me. The par­ticulars which I contrived to draw from him, though vague and void of proof, [Page 64] I must acknowledge infused a portion of doubt and distrust into my mind; but when I take the liberty of repeating what he said, I hope you will in some measure excuse and forgive me.

Your personal charms alone, he told me, were known to him; for to your private characters he was a stranger, tho' if appearances were to be trusted, the latter by no means conferred any addi­tional lustre on the former: he some time afterwards added, that he had been in­formed at all hands you were light, doubtful, and indiscreet; your princi­pal, if not your almost only associate, being a woman of infamous character, at whose windows he himself had frequently beheld you. Though I was thunder-struck at this intelligence, I did not give it implicit credit, but contrived to dispatch my own maid, who has been long and deservedly in my confidence, with orders to make private enquiries [Page 65] respecting your conduct of the people with whom you lodged. Their accounts, ambiguous and perplexing, served only to strengthen and confirm my error.

Here I could not resist making an attempt to interrupt Lady Linrose, with the design of explaining the various and singular causes of these shocking imputa­tions: but perceiving my intention— hold, my dear Madam, said she warmly. Do me not the injustice to imagine I now require any particulars to convince me of your innocence, and of my own in­considerate conclusions. 'Tis my vindi­cation not your's that brought me hither; and if any doubt could have remained on my mind, after having been once in your company, my son's explanation must have wholly removed it. I have already engaged your attention too long: yet I must request the indulgence of a few moments longer.

Such was the situation of affairs, when [Page 66] I besought the favour of a visit from Mr. Howard; and in spite of the ill opi­nion I had imbibed of his wards, I wrote to Lord Belmont in their behalf with all the warmth they could have desired; though to own the truth, the longer I reflected the more was I convinced that the success of the application would be such as it proved. The event justified my prudence in having concealed the matter from my son; his Lordship, amongst other injunctions, having strong­ly enjoined a continuation of secresy. There is a certain portion of spirit in my grandson's character, said he in his letter, which leads me to dread his con­duct on this occasion. While I admire and approve of a disposition that is the source in general of noble and generous actions, in the present instance I fear the effects of its enthusiasm, which may in­duce him to regard those unfortunate re­lations as objects of peculiar interest and [Page 67] regard. I solemnly declare however that his interference in this point with my commands, shall for ever exclude him my favour and cast him from my heart for ever.

Some time afterwards, my son one day unexpectedly demanded if I had ever been made acquainted with an applica­tion to Lord Belmont from those ladies of the name of Seymour against whom I seemed to have taken a prepossession so unaccountable? I evaded the question; and, though not without difficulty, soon after waved the subject: for while his expressions shewed me that he knew but half the secret, his warmth convinced me his knowledge of the whole would prove destructive of that unanimity and affection which has ever subsisted between him and his grandfather.

Such being my private sentiments of you, and such my situation with my son, you may easily conceive what my asto­nishment [Page 68] must have been on finding my­self unexpectedly introduced to you at Holtenham Abbey. Your countenance, your manner, and the ingenuous inno­cence which shone conspicuous in both, opened my eyes, and unavoidably en­gaged my regard and admiration. Yet withheld from acknowledging myself to you in the manner I wished, I was unwil­lingly constrained to assume the distance of a stranger; and I will candidly own, that as such I must have still continued, had not the present unhappy dissention between my favourite son and myself obliged me to lay before you the private motives of my conduct—motives which I own only can excuse it.

Her Ladyship was visibly affected at these words; but having wiped her eyes, continued—Mr. Roatsley, I find, has been informed, I suppose by this family, of the whole affair; and displeased with the part which prudence persuaded me [Page 69] to perform, last night desired from me an explanation of every particular. Finding all further secresy impracticable, I readily and candidly acknowledged the truth; but this, instead of satisfying and convincing him, served merely to heighten a resentment that barely preserved the respect which duty and affection has ne­ver yet allowed him to forget towards his mother. Shocked to the soul by this difference, the first that from the moment of his birth ever occurred be­tween us, I determined to open my heart to you; from the flattering hope, that knowing the secret spring of every part of my conduct, you might be ena­bled to do justice to my motives; and I trust should the subject ever again recur when my son visits you, you will have the goodness and generosity to convince him that in such circumstances, where the inflexible displeasure of Lord Belmont [Page 70] was at stake, it was the indispensible duty of a parent to act as I did.

My sister and I in warm terms re­turned her Ladyship thanks for this can­did and ingenuous explanation, which we sincerely assured her entirely satisfied us as to every point of her behaviour. As matters stood, Sophia, it was un­doubtedly both prudent and natural for Lady Linrose to conduct herself in the manner she has done, and I now reflect with pain on the injurious opinion that chagrin and disappointment induced us to entertain of a character which this one conversation developes in the most amiable and honourable point of view.

We expressed much uneasiness at the difference which Mr. Roatsley's compas­sionate humanity, in espousing so warmly our cause, had occasioned with a parent to whose foresight and maternal atten­tions he owed so much, and hoped it had proceeded no disagreeable lengths.

[Page 71]My son, said her Ladyship, is pos­sessed of the most amiable disposition in the world. The conversation I have just now mentioned, passed between us last night, when he asked permission to attend me in my dressing room after sup­per. I had observed that he was grave and uneasy the whole day; but no op­portunity for an explanation had till then occurred. Though gentle to excess, his passions, when once roused, are by no means easily controuled. The circum­stances of your situation had naturally excited his compassion, and his know­ledge of your amiable characters de­prived me of the only excuse he would admit as a palliation of my conduct. Lord Belmont's prohibition, he said, he could regard as none where honour and humanity were concerned. There was neither spirit nor principle in a slavish dependence on the will and opinions of others. In such a moment, prudence [Page 72] was selfishness, and obedience so implicit could only be deemed abject and servile.

He left me with these words; but soon after recollecting himself, he re­turned, not however with the intention of openly apologizing for his hear, but apparently from the wish of in some measure atoning for it by talking over the matter with calmness and temper.

This he did; and we parted at a late hour on good terms. What had passed however hung heavy on my spirits. I foresaw a world of tumult and opposition from this unfortunate discovery, and I determined to ease my mind of part of its burthen by openly disclosing my dis­quiets to the innocent cause of them, and entreating their forgiveness for the men­tal injury I have done them.

My son avows his resolution of apply­ing to Lord Belmont in your favour, a determination, which far from dissuading him from performing I highly approve [Page 73] of and shall myself enforce with that ad­ditional energy which admiration and regard must now produce; I cannot however avoid expressing my apprehen­sions that Roatsley's interference will irri­tate rather than persuade; and while to you he performs no essential service, he is disappointing and disobliging his grand­father at the most critical moment per­haps of his life: for I will not conceal any thing from you: I make no doubt indeed you must already have been in­formed of it: my son is soon to be hap­pily settled in life with a most amiable and valuable young lady; a tender af­fection subsists between them; the match is in every respect desirable; but Lord Belmont's decided approbation can alone secure that of his young bride's family and connexions.

My heart, Sophia—oh! what did not my heart endure at these words? It died within me. I cast my eyes on the ground, [Page 74] and avoided with the utmost care the pe­netrating look with which Lady Linrose regarded me. The agitating scene that had so recently passed between her son and myself flashed with redoubled an­guish on my thoughts; the recollection was misery, and I felt as a culprit in his mother's presence. From this state of embarrassment and distress, I was pre­sently in part relieved by the entrance of my little teizing companion Charlotte, who had been playing on the green be­fore the house, and just at this moment appeared. Her Ladyship, not thinking it prudent to proceed in a subject of such moment before the child, having now explained herself sufficiently, shifted the conversation to less interesting topicks; and being charmed with the little girl's beauty, began to chat with her.

Amongst other questions suited to her age, Lady Linrose, to set her a prattling, made the enquiry with which all chil­dren [Page 75] have been so often importuned, viz. which did she love best, Mrs. Howard or Miss Seymour? and Charlotte, not in the least at a loss for a reply which delicacy even in infancy sometimes renders em­barrassing, instantly replied—oh Miss Seymour certainly. Every body loves Miss Seymour, and the gentleman loves her too, for I know that well enough.

We shall get at all your secrets, Miss Seymour, cried Lady Linrose, smiling at my unspeakable confusion. But pray, my dear, turning to the child, who is this admirer of Miss Seymour's?

What does the child mean, cried I, with a look which I intended for surprise but which I am afraid partook infinitely more of alarm: pray don't be foolish Charlotte. But alas! I tried in vain to interrupt her; for delighted with being allowed to prate, and charmed with the importance of evidently distressing me, she answered Lady Linrose archly in a [Page 76] loud whisper—oh it must be her lover you know; for he kissed her hand just now again and again in the Filbert walk.

Conceive, if it is possible, my conscious distress. Words can but faintly express my situation. I dreaded that every fea­ture of my face would discover who this secret admirer was, and all spirit to rally it off forsook me. I thought at that moment this was certainly the most pain­ful excess to which shame and apprehen­sion could arrive; but I was too soon taught how deplorably erroneous was this idea.

A short and most distressing pause suc­ceeded to Charlotte's sally of gaiety. Lady Linrose, perceiving I suppose my uneasiness, politely forbore encreasing it by proceeding in her enquiries, and look­ing at her watch, rose to depart.

My sister asked the favour of her La­dyship's company to partake of a family dinner, if she was not otherwise engaged. [Page 77] I sincerely regret, said she, that I pro­mised my friend Lady Mary to be home by four o'clock: for as my visits, my dear Mrs. Howard, must be few and pri­vately stolen, I lament that I cannot in­dulge myself with a longer one at pre­sent: but we know not how things may turn out, added she with great kindness —we may perhaps be more fortunate than we at present imagine.

Mr. Howard will regret not having shared in the honour of this visit, Ma­dam, said my sister: and just as she spoke, her husband, who had been told who was with us, entered the parlour.

Lady Linrose received him with par­ticular civility; and though on her way to the carriage, which had been ordered to the door, unfortunately turned back and sat down again for a few minutes.

After the usual compliments and en­quiries—I flattered myself Mr. Roatsley had accompanied your Ladyship, said [Page 78] Mr. Howard, as I saw him at a distance little more than an hour ago with my sis­ter in the walk; but it was not then in my power to join them, as I was em­ployed procuring assistance to my old gardener, who has met with a very dis­agreeable accident this morning.

You must have mistaken some other person for Mr. Roatsley, said Mrs. How­ard, for he has not favoured us with his company to-day.

Was he not here, sister, cried Mr. Howard turning to me with a surprise which I fear my too apparent distress sufficiently abated; for as if conscious of having committed some mistake, he left the sentence unfinished.

This was too dreadful. I believe Mr. Roatsley was walking to-day, said I at length: but the anguish of my feelings made my voice faulter even during this short sentence; and Lady Linrose rose, before I had concluded it, curtseyed in [Page 79] silence to me, and taking her leave, was attended to the hall by Mr. Howard and my sister.

Being left alone—oh God! cried I to myself, what a day of misery has this been? My imprudence can only be equalled by my shame and despair. I was in agonies. I now perceived that Roatsley was inevitably devoted to ano­ther. The declaration, my Sophia, which burst from his lips, his reason, his principles, even his heart, must condemn in the first moments of cool reflexion. The remembrance must wound him, and is an insult to me. He knows my weak­ness. It is no longer concealed as hi­therto in the secret recesses of my heart. All the world knows it. Even his mo­ther is no longer ignorant of the fatal secret; and what may she not conclude from the circumstances which have re­vealed it to her knowledge. Would to heaven I could hide my confusion and [Page 80] folly for ever from the whole earth. But even if I could, how shall I ever conceal from myself the bitter, heart rending re­collection of my own imprudence.

I was almost frantic: and the moment I perceived the carriage drive off, I flew into my own room and shut myself up. Fanny soon followed, demanding admit­tance. But I could not for some time prevail with myself to grant it; for al­though my heart is strongly and tenderly attached to her, a dissimilarity of dispo­sition, and the circumstance of her being a married woman, which makes me ap­prehensive that her husband will be a sharer of all she knows, renders my confidence in her neither so comfortable nor so undisguised as it would otherwise prove. I am not so unjust as to suppose she could ever be prevailed with to be­tray by the slightest hint the secrets re­posed in her; but the openness of her disposition renders me very suspicious [Page 81] that she might be imprudent without being conscious of her error; and though I am thoroughly satisfied that she is as happy with Mr. Howard as it is possible for any woman to be in the married state, yet I feel a degree of indelicacy in paint­ing anxieties and ardours which were so wholly excluded her own courtship, and which may for that reason appear roman­tic and unaccountable.

I partly confessed however the disa­greeable situation in which I found my­self involved; and without touching on the circumstances of the drawing, and the declaration it had produced, which indeed I cannot recall to mind and could not have mentioned without anguish un­speakable, I owned I had met with Roatsley that morning, and acknow­ledged the uneasiness which the little girl's raillery before his mother had oc­casioned me.

I know not what to make of him, [Page 82] said Fanny: and undoubtedly this cousin of ours after all is a little unaccountable; for as Miss Farnford observed, his mis­tress has surely some reason to complain of his attentions in another quarter; and what can the man mean if he is actually on the eve of wedlock? I don't under­stand his behaviour.

Alas! thought I, I understand his be­haviour but too well. It is my too ap­parent weakness and folly which have for a time produced in his heart a temporary inconstancy. Oh, Sophia! how painful is this idea. All my pride of heart rises against it. I am sunk in my own opi­nion—I am humbled and miserable.

There is but one step to be taken, said I to my sister. To see Lady Linrose a­gain would be at present peculiarly disa­greeable; and tho' she gave at parting no intimation of a speedy return, she may very possibly contrive to see us before she leaves the county, which I own I [Page 83] would wish to avoid, and a very simple and natural method of doing so has oc­curred to me: I think of hastening my visit to our dear and valuable Lady Au­brey. It is but setting off in a day or two instead of three weeks hence. I am sure of finding her at home, and shall this very day write to prepare her to ex­pect me.

My sister, who has never been separat­ed from me for many years, and who dis­likes the idea of my leaving her even for a short time, made some little objections to this plan, alledging that Lady Lin­rose had requested her visit might be kept a secret, from which it was naturally to be inferred that it was not likely to be soon repeated.

I did not chuse to own explicitly that it was the son still more than the mother that I wished to avoid, tho' I told her that I thought I ought not to expose my­self to attentions that were (tho' I be­lieved [Page 84] unintentionally,) certainly an in­sult to my character: and I soon persuad­ed her to acknowledge, if such were my sentiments, that I ought not to defer my journey.

The difficulty that now remained, was how to conceal my real motive from Mr. Howard: but happily a fortunate pre­tence soon presented itself: in the even­ing, while we were chatting on the oc­currences of the day and the unexpected visit we had received, a letter was brought me from our dear and respected friend, telling me that her impatience to embrace us had arisen to such a height, that she intreated, if Mr. and Mrs. Howard's vi­sit must still be delayed, mine might be deferred no longer; requesting leave to send her own carriage and servants to convey me sately to Aubrey Castle.

This kind, maternal epistle, would at all events have determined my compli­ance, especially as Lady Meredith and [Page 85] Sir William, I find, have left the castle, having been suddenly recalled home: but at this time it is particularly agreea­ble, as it at once relieves me from my difficulties in regard to Mr. Howard, re­moves me from the chance of again meet­ing the man I so anxiously wish never more to behold, and offers me an oppor­tunity undisturbed and at a distance, for combating the commotions of my mind.

I have written Lady Aubrey that I shall be with her on Saturday evening. Her seat is forty five miles distant; but by setting off very early, I hope to ac­complish my journey without sleeping on the road, which I should dislike much. I have accepted the offer of her carriage and servants, which are to be here on Thursday evening.

LETTER XXI. TO MISS BEAUMONT.

I Arrived here last night about nine in the evening. The moment I alighted, our dear Lady Aubrey ran out to meet me in the hall. She pressed me to her bosom in the tenderest manner, and tears accompanied her embraces.

She led me to her dressing room; where, after a thousand anxious appre­hensions on her part in regard to the fa­tigue I had undergone in travelling, and as many kind enquiries after my sister and Mr. Howard, I congratulated her with the most heartfelt satisfaction on the [Page 87] happy improvement of her health, indi­cated so visibly by the alteration in her looks.

The change is indeed striking. That glow which health and tranquillity only can preserve, now throws a lustre over features, the interesting beauty of which seemed before incapable of addition.

Both in mind and body, said that an­gelic woman, my amendment is wonder­ful: and how infinitely kind is it in my Hermione thus to soothe my heart by gratifying my ardent wishes for her com­pany. My spirits, thank heaven, are calm and equal; and my frame, at no period robust, begins to feel the pleasing effects of internal peace and composure. I do not allow myself to indulge the se­clusion to which inclination strongly im­pells me: on the contrary, I respect those exactions which the rights of society re­quire, and the neglect of which I, who have perhaps a long life before me, may [Page 88] yet live to regret. I intend to force my­self therefore to make proper returns to the visits and civilities paid me by my country neighbours; and have even al­ready begun to form an intimacy with a very worthy couple, who have hitherto waved all ceremony, and who have been repeatedly my guests. They are at present with me; and though I should have much prefered the happiness of spending this evening tete a tete with you, I must submit to allow them a share of your company.

She then conducted me to the draw­ing room, where we found a lady and gentleman engaged at picquet. She presented me to both in the kindest man­ner. I shall say nothing, my dear Ma­dam, said she to the lady, for leaving you my cards so long, as I bring my apology along with me in this amiable young friend, who has relieved my ap­prehensions [Page 89] by making her appearance at last.

Supper was announced immediately after; and as I was fatigued and ex­hausted, Lady Aubrey, whose solicitude and anxiety made her watch every change of my countenance, insisted that I should retire early to rest; and making her excuses to Mr. and Mrs. Berry, who seem very sensible, agreeable people, she led me to the chamber allotted me, where having ordered her maid to attend me, and satisfied herself that every thing was prepared for my comfort and satis­faction, she tenderly embraced me and wished me good night.

LETTER XXII. TO MISS BEAUMONT.

WE arrived here last night after a pleasant journey. The weather was very favourable, and the country thro' which we passed so beautiful, that I was much more pleased than I expected to have been. I am considerably stronger [Page 99] since we set out, and but for a languor and depression which still hang upon me, would think myself quite well.

The family here consists of Sir Ashton, his lady, and a large party of visitors. They reside constantly in the country, and live in what is called the style of old English hospitality. They received us with much kindness and cordiality, and we sat down to supper twenty in num­ber in a large hall, the walls of which are decorated with family portraits of ancient grandmothers and maiden aunts, dressed in the fashions of their days, with a rose in the hand and a smirk on the countenance of each.

LETTER XXIII. TO MISS BEAUMONT.

WE are returned here, to my inex­pressible satisfaction; and if the pertur­bation of my spirits will allow of any kind of method or connexion in my nar­rative, pray receive the particulars which occurred immediately on our arrival.

We set off early on Monday last. Poor [Page 118] Sir Edward! his uneasiness at seeing us depart was very apparent. But as I must hasten to more interesting circumstances, I shall merely tell you, that having in his letter desired leave to receive his sentence, as he called it, from Lady Aubrey's lips, I intreated her at once to put a final period to his suit; which she accordingly contrived to do during a short walk on the terrace after breakfast. He was much shocked, she said, but seemed to regard his dismission as positive and un­alterable.

We arrived pretty late at the castle. Lady Aubrey, after ordering tea, of which she is particularly fond, left the room to give some family orders, and soon after the housekeeper entered and pre­sented to me a letter, which she told me had been brought three days after my departure, by a servant, who finding I was from home, enquired when I was ex­pected to return; and being informed [Page 119] that our absence was only designed for a week at most, he left it in strict charge to the housekeeper, telling her it must be given into Miss Seymour's own hands, and requesting particular care might be taken of it.

This appearance of precaution con­veyed an idea into the good woman that probably the letter contained bills for money; which suspicion induced her, in­stead of sending it by post to Hilbury Lodge, on finding our stay prolonged, to lock it carefully in her drawer till our ar­rival should put it in her power to dis­charge her trust faithfully.

A gentleman, she added, had called that very morning, and having enquired for the housekeeper, had asked what was become of the letter given into her hands by a servant a fortnight before; and finding we were that day expected, had requested her to present it to me imme­diately on my arrival.

[Page 120]This prelude alarmed me, tho' I knew not why. The woman withdrew: I open­ed it in trepidation: and what was my astonishment and agitation on perceiving the signature of Linrose. I sunk breath­less into a chair, and scarce credited the sense which enabled me to peruse the following lines.

[Page 127]The tumult of my mind on perusing this astonishing letter was unutterable. My senses were almost annihilated; and a sensation of distrust and consternation half persuaded me to doubt if what I read really came from the hands of Lord Linrose.

In this state of perturbation I was sur­prised by Lady Aubrey, who entered the drawing room while I was so wholly absorbed in secret gratitude and delight, that unconscious of observation, I re­peated aloud, clasping my hands toge­ther, good God! is it possible?

My dear, cried she, approaching in haste, surprised at the situation in which she beheld me—for heaven's sake tell me what is the matter?

This question awakened me from the confusion that had seized all my facul­ties. But unable to reply, I could only answer by pressing the hand that had so kindly seized mine.

[Page 128]My agitation astonished and alarmed her: for the two extremes of pleasure and distress, are upon a cursory view very similar in their effects. She imagined some sudden calamity had overwhelmed me; and pressing me with sympathetic tenderness to her bosom, entreated me to tell her what had given me so much pain.

I could not avoid smiling at the ex­pression; and hastened to acquaint her that I had no subject for uneasiness. I blush for myself, dearest Madam, said I; but you I well know will be all indul­gence to the weakness which in a mo­ment of such unspeakable agitation I am unable to overcome. I have a long, long tale to disclose to you. My heart has been humbled, mortified, and op­pressed; and I am certain your goodness will allow of some excuse in the sudden, soothing relief it has so unexpectedly re­ceived.

That tale can never appear long to me, [Page 129] of which my Hermione is the heroine. But do sit down and compose yourself. I believe I can almost guess the most material points of the story. Is there not a hero in the tale, my love? at least so I have long suspected; though I for­bore giving you the pain of soliciting your confidence, which I was certain would not have been denied me but for particular reasons that must have ren­dered the communication distressing.

Oh! Madam, I will tell you all, cried I, penetrated with her goodness; and be assured no ungrateful doubt of your kind sympathy and indulgence induced me to lock up my secret pangs in my own bo­som. Ah! no! diffidence and bashful­ness alone at first deterred me from en­tering upon so awkward a subject; and afterwards, since my residence here, I have not only anxiously wished that all the world might remain in ignorance of what has passed, but that if possible I [Page 130] might banish it for ever from my own remembrance.

But as your past uneasiness seems, if I may judge from the intelligence of your countenanance, to have given way to happier prospects, I hope you are going to have the goodness to satisfy my cu­riosity. The man who has created such ravages in the bosom of my Hermione has no little reason to be vain, and I am convinced must merit the distinction, else he would not have enjoyed it; but pray tell me who is he? I cannot possibly have seen him, yet I feel I am already in his interests.

He is one of my relations, Madam, answered I, hesitating. He is my cou­sin; and the grandson—

Of Lord Belmont, interrupted Lady Aubrey. I have frequently heard of the young man while abroad, and his friends talked loudly in his favour; and though my connection with the family has been [Page 131] long laid aside, I have ever retained se­cretly in my heart a strong and lively partiality for the good old man and all his children. A tear rushed into her eye as she spoke. The husband of Hermi­one, continued she, must ever have pos­sessed my warmest regard, but I shall not love him less, for the many recollec­tions—

Oh! Madam! cried I, sobbing in her arms, for the sake of heaven banish all painful recollections. Let the past be sunk in oblivion. Look only forward. Think of nothing but the consolation, the salutary comfort which a heart like your's is formed to experience from the unalterable duty, gratitude, and affec­tion of those highly favoured children of your adoption, who honour you with filial piety and love you with enthusiastic fervour.

Be not distressed, my dear, said she, recovering her sedate composure; my [Page 132] heart is far from sad at this moment. How indeed should it be so at a moment when my daughter's countenance bright­ens with secret complacency through her tears.

She then once more entreated me to be explicit; and beginning at the epocha of our rencontre in the packet boat, I related sincerely and without disguise every circumstance in which Lord Lin­rose has been concerned.

Lady Aubrey listened with the kind­est and most anxious solicitude, and en­tered with interest into all my emotions. She felt for my disappointments, re­joiced when any intervals of gratification seemed to afford me a recompence for my sufferings, exulted at the generosity of Lord Linrose's conduct, and shed tears at Lord Belmont's cruelty. He is reckoned by many a rigid character, said she, but to me he was ever all gentleness and condescension; and even his faults I [Page 133] am convinced have their origin in virtue. He is strict, and perhaps may be esteemed severe; but that severity is the result of a rectitude of heart, which being sub­ject to few weaknesses, possesses little indulgence for errors it never knew. His benevolence is warm, and his feelings but too keen. Where they have suf­fered from the misconduct of others, his resentment is proportioned to what he has endured. But his conduct in regard to his grand children is by no means in tone with the general tenor of his prin­ciples, which are founded on strict jus­tice and unbiassed integrity. It leads me to imagine that some previous pre­possession must have taken root in his mind; and it is not unlikely that Lady Linrose (being herself deceived) may have occasioned or at least confirmed this disgust, even without the slightest deliberate design of injuring your cause. At all events, on his arrival all can be [Page 134] easily and effectually explained; and you have now but little reason to dread his inflexibility while you possess an advo­cate so thoroughly well disposed as Lord Linrose, to exert all his rhetoric in your behalf.

I had just satisfied her in regard to the part Lady Linrose has acted, and con­cluded my narrative, acknowledging my astonishment and perturbation on re­ceiving an explanation so unlooked for of the seeming inconsistencies in Lord Lin­rose's conduct, when a note was brought me from him. He was, as I had sus­pected from the housekeeper's account, and as his own letter led me to imagine, on his way to Dover; and wrote from the inn, on the great road, about four miles from this place.

He laments his disappointment on finding I was not yet returned when he called this morning, and requests leave [Page 135] to be allowed to wait on me to-morrow morning.

The moment I had read this note, I gave it to Lady Aubrey, who desired me to offer her compliments to his Lord­ship, and to request in her name the fa­vour of his company to-morrow at break­fast.

I then withdrew to my dressing room to answer it. Glad of a pretext for be­ing a few moments alone, I threw my­self into a chair, and gave way to a reve­rie of the most enchanting nature. What a revolution in my mind had a few hours effected! What a reverse, from the de­pression that had but that very morning almost wholly overpowered me! My spi­rits were elated to a degree of enthusiasm; and I thanked the Almighty with a fer­vour till now unfelt for the delightful prospect that on all sides surrounded me. I sat down at length to my bureau. Had my pen followed the dictates of my heart, [Page 136] I knew I should have committed my note to the flames instead of sending it away; yet I could not affect a cold ceremony, so opposite to my own feelings and to that affection which Lord Linrose had de­clared in terms of such warmth. Here is what I was obliged to rest satisfied with at last.

Having dispatched my note, I re­turned to Lady Aubrey. Oh! Sophia! how amiable, how exalted is this woman! Her spirits were this evening exhilerated even to gaiety, her eyes sparkled with pleasure, and the agonizing recollections, which remembrance might be supposed on this occasion to have naturally renewed, were wholly suppressed or rather sup­planted by the prospect of my approach­ing happiness. She asked me a thou­sand questions in regard to Lord Lin­rose, [Page 138] made me minutely describe his person, and insisted on my shewing her a little sketch on ivory, which at Hil­bury Lodge soothed many a melancholy hour, but which I had at length deter­mined to destroy as it afforded an insinua­ting indulgence extremely ill adapted to that victory over my sensibility which I have so often attempted without success. This preliminary towards conquering my weakness, you will perhaps sagely ob­serve, ought to have been the first step. I grant it; but indeed you must be pre­cisely in my situation before you can prove an adequate judge of the difficul­ties of such a sacrifice.

We separated early; and I have been writing while I ought to have been in bed. But I have little chance of sleep­ing; though the weakness of my frame at present renders the agitations of the day so violent on my spirits, that I feel quite exhausted, and think of to-morrow's [Page 139] interview even with some degree of ap­prehension. Yes, Sophia; for is not there something formidable in the idea of seeing Lord Linrose after the weakness of my behaviour at our last meeting.

LETTER XXIV. TO MISS BEAUMONT.

MY sister and Mr. Howard arrived yesterday. I walked out in hopes of meeting their carriage; but they had taken another road, and had sat half an hour with Lady Aubrey before I returned to the house.

This interval she had employed in ex­plaining to them the present posture of affairs. Mr. Howard was overjoyed, but less astonished than Lady Aubrey expected; for he had long been con­scious, he told her, that a mutual attach­ment subsided between Lord Linrose [Page 155] and me; and however unaccountable his Lordship's conduct had sometimes ap­peared, and however well authenticated the report of his marriage had been, he had ever suspected the validity of its foundation, and foreseen what in that case the issue would prove.

Fanny was quite intoxicated with joy. She kissed Lady Aubrey again and again for having communicated such good news, and when I entered the room, I was obliged to entreat her by a look not in­stantly to bring on the subject. But my caution was quite unnecessary. She seemed ready to dance from gaietè de caeur; and at length unable to contain herself longer —Mr. Howard, cried she, you must sa­lute Lady Linrose once more, and wish her Ladyship joy. It is extremely rude to be so inattentive on the present joyful occasion.

It may rather be called unkind per­haps, said Mr. Howard, (smiling, while [Page 154] [...] [Page 155] [...] [Page 156] he obeyed her commands) but I have long wished our dear sister from the bot­tom of my heart the enjoyment of that happiness which I was convinced would one day prove her fate.

Our Hermione has many rivals, said Lady Aubrey. Mrs. Howard, I per­ceive, is quite enthusiastic about my Lord; and as for myself, though I had his picture faithfully delineated by the most able hand before I beheld him, yet I was quite charmed as well with his ap­pearance as with the superior elegance of his manners and conversation.

Our little party last night was in un­common spirits, and Fanny quite giddy with mirth. We talked over and over every fancied circumstance of the meet­ing which must have by this time taken place between the travellers, with an in­terest that seemed equally to animate the whole party, yet I always feel uneasy on repeating before Lady Aubrey the [Page 157] name of Lord Belmont, often as it has within these few days occurred in the course of conversation. She spoke of him this night herself however with an apparent tranquillity that partly relieved me; and when I attended her as usual to her dressing room after supper, she owned to me, that though the prospect of seeing him agitated her not a little, she felt for him the tender regard of a daughter, and thought of an interview with a sen­sation of mournful satisfaction that soothed and gratified her. He always demon­strated a peculiar fondness for me, said she, which excited my warmest gratitude; and though an ill founded resentment on my father's part obliged me during his life time wholly to break off all inter­course with the whole family, and after the misfortune of his death I had not courage to think of demanding a visit from the kind old man before I left Eng­land, my wounds being then too recent [Page 158] and my feelings unsubdued by time and patience, yet I always remembered him with tenderness; and I flatter myself, after the first meeting is over, I shall derive much satisfaction from a re-union which I have always so anxiously desired. To enlarge the objects of our interest, is in fact to augment the scale of our hap­piness; and I shall never allow myself to sigh too bitterly for past sorrows, while the present affords me friends that ex­cite my warmest sensibility.

LETTER XXV. TO MISS BEAUMONT.

THIS interview, so anxiously and so long desired, took place yesterday.

Lady Aubrey's eyes, at breakfast, be­trayed how the night had been passed; and as for myself, I felt as if I was on the eve of an event, the consequences of which were formidable and precarious. Fanny seemed to partake very little in these apprehensions. All her anxiety was in regard to my appearance, which she wished to render as agreeable as pos­sible in my grandfather's eyes, as an apo­logy for the imprudence of Lord Linrose's [Page 220] attachment; and she helped to adjust my dress with an eager anxiety that my un­easiness on Lady Aubrey's account hardly rendered me capable of attending to.

My Lord and Mr. Howard had agreed to ride out, that they might not be in the way when Lord Belmont was introduced to us; and about one his Lordship ar­rived, having slept on the road, and tra­velled slowly.

My sister and I trembled to leave Lady Aubrey in that state of agitation into which even the sight of his carriage at a distance had thrown her; but we obeyed the hint she gave us to allow her to re­ceive him alone; and having made her swallow a few drops in water, we with­drew into the adjoining library, which is separated from her dressing room only by a thin partition.

We had scarce tinne to enter it, when the found of steps ascending the stairs threw me into a tremor not to be con­ceived. [Page 221] The door of the dressing room was presently after thrown open, and a servant pronounced the name of Lord Belmont and instantly withdrew.

A short silence ensued, which terrified me with the apprehension of Lady Au­brey's having fainted. This alarm was but too soon confirmed, from hearing Lord Belmont call out, in a voice of hurry and afright—Who's there? Good God, who's there? and the bell was in­stantly rung with great violence.

My sister and I, overpowered with ter­ror and forgetful of every thing but our dear and invaluable friend, then burst into the room. She had sunk upon the sopha, and lay insensible, Lord Belmont hanging over her in all the despair of conscious inability to afford her assistance.

What a moment, in which for the first time to behold our grandfather. Anxiously as I had expected this inter­view, and formidable as it had appeared, [Page 222] I scarce regarded him; I almost forgot he was present; and flying to Lady Au­brey, I supported her head in my trem­bling arms, while Fanny and the maid, who had been summoned from below, administered salts and besprinkled her face with lavender water.

Seeing her beginning to recover, my sister had the presence of mind to send away the maid, and Lady Aubrey soon after opened her lovely eyes. Returning recollection made her feebly raise her head, as if to seek Lord Belmont, who had prudently withdrawn behind from the fear that beholding him again too suddenly might occasion a relapse. But her emotions fortunately now took a less alarming turn; and clasping me in her arms as she reclined upon my neck, the fullness of her heart got vent in tears and sobs that seemed to rend her bosom; while the conflict of my feelings was so dreadful, that I cannot conceive how my [Page 223] senses stood the shock they sustained at that instant.

Lord Belmont, extremely affected, had moved towards us; but apprehensive of encreasing the violence of Lady Aubrey's feelings, and wholly subdued by his own, he stood for a moment irresolute whether or not he should advance. At length bursting into a violent flood of tears— by heavens this is too much! cried he, and suddenly retreated as if unable to support this scene.

Lady Aubrey, as yet scarce capable of articulating, prevented his withdrawing by holding out her hand to him, which he kissed with the most moving tender­ness; and she fell into his arms in an agony of pathetic sorrow, which the most hardened and insensible could not have witnessed without being melted with compassion. Lord Belmont's whole soul seemed softened into pity, and he wept immoderately.

[Page 224]There is something peculiarly affecting in any violent expressions of grief in an old man: one is so little accustomed to behold them give way to the softer feel­ings, that when they burst the restraints of fortitude, it appears a sort of convul­sion that is terrifying. Lady Aubrey, on perceiving the poignancy of his emo­tions, was instantly seized with an alarm which seemed to operate effectually in aiding her re-composure, or rather in inspiring her with resolution for strug­gling to attain it. She was for a mo­ment calm—Oh my Lord! I am wound­ing, I am destroying you, cried she; but behold the all-powerful consolation I promised you—behold your children!

She disengaged herself from his em­braces, and perhaps, Sophia, you will conclude that my sister and I instantly fell at our grandfather's feet and im­plored his blessing; but though this behaviour might have been more be­coming, [Page 225] and perhaps in some people more natural, my feelings operated very differently. The tenderness of his man­ner to Lady Aubrey, and the benevo­lent expression diffused over his aged countenance, had at the first glance de­prived him of the stern aspect with which my imagination had invested him, and a strong and obvious look of my dear father, which struck that moment at my heart with the force of an electrical shock, instead of throwing me on my knees conveyed me into his arms; where melted and subdued, had not sobs re­lieved me, I must have fainted away.

My sister followed my example the moment I had a little recovered myself. He embraced us both with infinite affec­tion; and Lady Aubrey's tears flowed with a freedom and profusion that greatly relieved my apprehensions and her own sufferings.

Permit me to leave you for one half [Page 226] hour, said Lord Belmont. I shall be enabled presently to behold my dear daughters with more composure, and their gentle hearts will be fortified by my absence. Is there not a son too, to whom I have still to be introduced. I will find Linrose, and desire him to pre­sent me to Mr. Howard.

I perceive they are just returned, cried Fanny, who had seen them from the windows; and my Lord left us with precipitation under pretence of going to join them.

The instant he was gone, the momen­tary composure which Lady Aubrey had laboured to maintain entirely forsook her, and the violence of her perturbation was succeeded by a weakness, languor, and depression, that seemed wholly to overpower her, and rendered me ex­tremely apprehensive that this interview would be far from promoting the com­fort and tranquillity of her mind. By [Page 227] the time that Lord Belmont returned, however, she was sedate and collected, yet both her health and looks have evi­dently suffered, though thank heaven not very materially, from this shock.

Eager to avoid any subject that might lead to mournful retrospections, Lord Belmont anxiously entered into conversa­tion on matters less affecting, but equally interesting. He desired a particular ac­count of our situation in all respects from our arrival in England to my sister's marriage, and expressed himself much pleased with Mr. Howard, to whom he had been introduced below. Both his expression and his manner were kind to excess; and he blamed himself severely for the part he had been induced to act. I must endeavour to atone to my chil­dren, said he, for my past behaviour in a way that I hope will banish it from their remembrance though the recollec­tion ever must wound my own.

[Page 228]I could have told him, had I been able to summon courage, that one word from his lips had already more than atoned for fifty times the uneasiness his rejection had occasioned; but I could only press his hand, as he held mine in his. I al­most think he understood this silent token of gratitude, for he embraced me affec­tionately.

Lord Linrose and Mr. Howard having allowed a sufficient time for this expla­natory conversation, then entered. The appearance of the former for the first few minutes overwhelmed me with confusion. I recollected the repugnance with which my grandfather had so long listened to his solicitations in my behalf, and re­called with pain the reluctant consent which Lady Aubrey's interference had extorted. My confidence however was soon restored by the extreme affection and condescension of Lord Belmont; who, as if he had penetrated into my thoughts [Page 229] and read my embarrassment, seemed to make me the object of his peculiar re­gard. He received, with infinite marks of satisfaction, all the little attentions which the pleasing idea of possessing a parent who claimed them excited from my sister and myself, was delighted with the information of our progress in dif­ferent accomplishments, such as music, painting, &c. advantages which Lady Aubrey took care to display with all the exaggeration of maternal partiality, and when we were seating ourselves at table, ordered Lord Linrose to give him up the place of which he was about to take pos­session between Lady Aubrey and me. You begin to monopolize before your time, Sir, said he with a smile that co­vered me with blushes. He is indeed the most amiable old man I ever beheld, and must have been uncommonly hand­some I think in his youth; though I will not deny but that an air of conscious [Page 230] dignity, accompanied even with a look of austerity, is diffused over it, that may not at first sight prove prepossessing in the eyes of a stranger. But to his friends and to his children, he appears only what in fact he is, all condescension and be­nevolence. His resemblance to my fa­ther is so obvious, that he recalls him every instant to my remembrance, and you may recollect how much you used to admire the noble expression of his countenance.

Were his tenderness to my sister and myself wholly out of the question, his behaviour to Lady Aubrey would en­tirely gain my heart. Every look testi­fies the warmth of his admiration and re­spect; even the very tone of his voice on addressing her, is expressive of af­fection; and on her part, though the agitating scene of the morning seemed to have unhinged her nerves and wholly exhausted her strength and spirits, his [Page 231] Lordship's tenderness appears to have recruited both. She is truly sensible of his goodness; and receives all his at­tentions with a mournful pleasure, which while it revives her sorrows, and encreases her melancholy, sooths and gratifies her heart.

Hurt by the idea of overclouding the happiness (which however combated by sympathy and compassion. Lord Bel­mont's arrival had universally diffused) she exerted herself yesterday evening to appear chearful; but the effort was ap­parent: she conversed on indifferent to­pics with seeming interest; but it was easy to divine that her thoughts were not present; and at last she insisted that I should sit down to the harpsichord and sing to my grandfather a little French air, which he had said he particularly admired. The first few notes however obliged her to leave the room, and I found it impossible to proceed.

[Page 232]This day, thank heaven, I think her spirits are less depressed. She had a long private conversation in the morning with Lord Belmont, chiefly in regard to our affairs, and seems to have been more re­lieved than affected by it. My Lord acknowledged to her every circumstance of the conduct of Lady Linrose, but re­quested that particular care might be taken not to encrease the resentment of her son by an open avowal of the unge­nerous part she has secretly acted.

Her behaviour, said my Lord, has betrayed a degree of meanness, art, and duplicity, which convince me she is ca­pable of any step, however irregular, from which she has hopes of attaining a favourite point. I shall myself therefore break off all connection with her in fu­ture; but I should be sorry to involve Linrose in a difference with his mother, and if our Hermione be as amiable as her lovely countenance bespeaks her, [Page 233] she will incline to soften rather than ex­asperate an indignation too justly excited. Oh Sophia! how proud and how pleased did this partial compliment from my grandfather make me.

Lady Aubrey assured him of my paci­fic disposition, and said she was certain I would be infinitely shocked with the apprehension of occasioning a rupture between them. I am convinced, added she, that her present happiness has al­ready obliterated from her mind all re­sentment in regard to Lady Linrose; yet when she recalls the comfortless, uncon­nected situation in which she and her sister found themselves at the very mo­ment that she so unfeelingly transmitted to them the account of your Lordship's determination, a determination which undoubtedly her own misrepresentations had effected, there is perhaps some lit­tle merit in dismissing indignation.

As an apology for the unkindness of [Page 234] my conduct, said my Lord, I must re­quest you, my dear Madam, to peruse this letter, which I received from Lady Linrose in December last.

Lady Aubrey immediately read it; and afterwards repeated to us the con­tents as faithfully as her memory could retail them.

Lady Linrose began by informing Lord Belmont that she was about to ac­quaint him with an affair that had given her infinite vexation, and which she was afraid would involve his Lordship in much difficulty and uneasiness. She then tells him that his two granddaughters had taken the imprudent step (without any previous application or advice) of coming over to England; where they had lately arrived merely attended by a gentleman, who it was said was much devoted to them. After imprudently lodging all together in the house of a woman of very doubtful character, and [Page 235] associating almost solely with the famous Mrs. Weldon, with whom they had been intimate abroad, who was kept at pre­sent by a profligate young man of for­tune, they had applied to her (Lady Linrose) as a relation from whom they expected countenance and civilities; and to this, her Ladyship adds, they would justly have been entitled, had not the glaring impropriety of their conduct rendered any attention on her part, on account of her daughters, wholly out of the question.

These were circumstances, she said, much to be regretted: but alas this un­expected journey to England had been attended by consequences still more dis­agreeable, and indeed truly alarming: her son Roatsley had accidentally seen and was become passionately enamoured of the eldest of these girls; though from a singular train of particulars, too te­dious to retail, added to their having re­tained [Page 236] the name by which they had been hitherto known, he was still ignorant of the relationship that subsisted between them. Artful, beautiful, and designing, this young woman had spread every snare of coquetry and insinuation to cap­tivate him, in which she had so entirely succeeded that he was blind to her im­prudence, nor would listen to any at­tempts made by his friends to open his eyes.

She had no doubt, her Ladyship con­tinued, but the ladies would soon pre­vail with Roatsley to intercede with his Lordship in their favour, though as yet no explanation on that head seemed to have taken place between them; and added, that were it not for the unfortu­nate circumstance of his attachment, which absolutely required every possible check and discouragement, it would doubtless have been a natural and hu­mane act to have endeavoured to restrain [Page 237] the conduct of the girls within the bounds of propriety and decency; and to effect this desirable end, the notice and protection of their friends might have proved conducive: but at present she was convinced any favour or atten­tions afforded them would but give life to those romantic hopes which the de­pendent and unconnected obscurity of their situation had hitherto suppressed.

She then desires to have his Lordship's commands in what manner she should conduct herself on the occasion, to which she promises the most dutiful and impli­cit submission; and requests that his Lordship may not on any account allow her son to suspect that she had ever en­tered with him on this subject, as it could serve no purpose but that of pro­ducing endless quarrels and altercations between them, and he would be apt to suspect her (she adds) of having prepos­sessed him against them. Her Ladyship, [Page 238] after a great deal more to the same pur­pose, concludes with these words, which Lady Aubrey repeated verbatim, "the young ladies, I understand, intend ad­dressing your Lordship in a letter, which I shall take particular care to dispatch the moment it is committed to my charge."

This letter, however, my Lord in­formed Lady Aubrey, never had arrived, though Lady Linrose in her next in­formed him that she had sent it off some days before. I was little solicitous, said his Lordship, about the fate of an epistle which the alarm I had received from the intelligence of my grandson's folly ren­dered me unwilling to peruse; but I doubt if it was ever intended for my sight, from the moment in which it reached the hands of that artful woman. At the time however no suspicion even entered my thoughts. Shocked at the danger which threatened all my favourite schemes for Linrose, I instantly desired [Page 239] his mother by every means in her power to discourage his passion, and to prevent the slightest intercourse between her fa­mily and these imprudent girls, whose ill conduct, added to my grandson's in­fatuation, determined me to renounce them; and I ordered her to assure them that my resolution neither to behold nor acknowledge them was irrevocable. I made enquiry however in what situation they were in regard to fortune, and was pleased to find that their finances were in a situation that required not the inter­ference of my assistance. Even this ac­count, Linrose tells me, was false; for the unlucky failure of their guardian rendered their circumstances so uncom­fortable that an application was made to him by one of their friends for some assistance, which I believe he intended to convey in the most delicate manner he could contrive under the borrowed form of a pension from government.

[Page 240]On this head, said Lady Aubrey, I must exculpate Lady Linrose from blame; for the circumstance of Mr. Benseley's affairs I am convinced never, came to her knowledge; and when she informed your Lordship that their situa­tion required no aid, she was herself probably of that opinion. I must like­wise observe, that though this account of their situation received from her pen all the exaggeration that art and preju­dice could give it, yet it is possible that upon her first private enquiries in regard to them, she might have conceived a very unjust and unfavourable opinion of their behaviour. A variety of injurious rumours were the disagreeable conse­quence of their imprudence in lodging with a woman of whose character they were not particularly informed; and the unlucky intimacy which for a short time subsisted between them and Mrs. Wel­don, owing to that abandoned woman's having [Page 241] art in getting admitted into very respec­table society abroad, must have confirmed her error.

Yes, Madam, said Lord Belmont; but when she was herself undeceived, then, in honour, in justice, she was bound to have removed the disgust she had implanted: but instead of pursuing this path, the whole of her conduct dis­covers the most despicable and ungene­rous artifice. In a late letter dated from Holtenham Abbey, she tells me that my grandchildren are behaving with greater propriety than could have been expected; that the youngest had lately married the gentleman who had attended them from the Continent, a circumstance she ob­serves that looked well; and that her sister resided with them in that county, where they lived with credit. As they were but lately arrived and little known, nobody there she says seemed acquainted with their late levity of conduct. This [Page 242] decorum, whether real or assumed merely for the purpose of deceiving Linrose, was extremely alarming, she adds, as they had acquired a reputation which youth and beauty, when attended with art, seldom found it difficult to obtain, where a favourite point was at stake. Thus, by working forcibly on my ap­prehensions in regard to my grandson, and representing my granddaughters in this unfavourable point of view, she evi­dently aimed at prepossessing me so strongly against them, as to render me on my return neither particular in my enquiries nor in any way solicitous about them: while at the same time, should at length the real truth transpire, she pre­served the salvo of having been herself deceived.

To these accusations Lady Aubrey could have added the artful visit she made at Hubert Hill, and the feigned civilities and expressions of friendship [Page 243] by which she had endeavoured to gain our confidence and lull her son's suspi­cions, as affording her the means of se­parating us from Lord Belmont with greater facility and less danger of detec­tion; but unwilling to exasperate where she was certain I would wish to recon­cile, Lady Aubrey forbore acquainting him with this part of her behaviour.

She discovered however, in the course of this conversation, that Lord Linrose had partly hinted to him the approbation and admiration with which his mother had beheld us; but this having been followed by no particulars, and Lord Linrose having merely advanced that circumstance during the heat of their al­tercation as an argument in our favour, it had made no great impression on Lord Belmont's mind. I should be much distressed, Sophia, to be the means of occasioning divisions in a family with whom I am soon to be so intimately con­nected. [Page 244] I shall endeavour therefore as much as is possible to keep all aggra­vating additions from Lord Belmont's knowledge, as well as to persuade Lord Linrose into conciliating measures; who, though he is withheld from openly testi­fying his resentment, cannot talk of his mother's conduct with patience, even while he is ignorant of the extent of her artifice.

After this full and candid explanation, my Lord expressed in the strongest and most flattering terms his warm approba­tion of his grandson's choice, and spoke of me with a partial admiration that de­lighted the heart of our invaluable friend; and on being faithfully repeated to me, filled mine with gratitude and pleasure. Linrose, he said, was impatient to have matters concluded; and indeed, considering the happiness that awaited him, his eagerness was both natural and excusable; the ceremony therefore [Page 245] should be no longer delayed, than till the papers and settlements could be made out.

Having concluded this minute detail, I have one favour to request of my Hermione, added Lady Aubrey, and I flatter myself she will not refuse me. It is that you will not think of leaving this house, my love, till you have given your hand to Lord Linrose. Let me have the pleasure of thinking, that as under this roof you have experienced the most painful moments that hopeless love could send, under this roof your future happiness has he secured as far as the affection, gratitude, and admiration of a tender husband can secure it.

To this kind request you may believe I gave a grateful and willing assent, provided Lord Belmont approved of the proposal. I even entreated that she would endeavour if possible to prevail with him to agree to it; for I am ex­tremely [Page 246] apprehensive, from a hint he let drop this morning, that he has got the frightful intention of giving to this affair the air of a formal celebration, by inviting distant relations of the family, and introducing pomp and ceremonials where privacy with a very few friends is so much more suitable to the awful so­lemnity of the occasion. Lord Belmont, it is not difficult to perceive, is not easily moved by persuasion to alter a deter­mined purpose; but heaven grant that in this instance, as in so many still more arduous, Lady Aubrey's unbounded in­fluence may prevail.

LETTER XXVI. TO MISS BEAUMONT.

ONCE more, my dearest Sophia, I write from Hubert Hill. This delight­ful [Page 256] little abode, where, accompanied by the happy party from Aubrey Castle, I arrived on Friday forenoon.

Your Hermione, in presence of these dear and amiable friends, gave her hand to Lord Linrose on Wednesday last. No addition was made to the family on that occasion, Mr. and Mrs. Price ex­cepted, from whom we parted on Thurs­day morning, as this little mansion could not have contained more visitors than at present are its inhabitants.

We were charmed to perceive the agreeable alteration which an easy mind and comfortable circumstances have pro­duced in the looks of Mrs. Price. Her husband is a very amiable man; and her situation is in all respects as happy as it lately was the reverse. Mrs. Hindon, she told us, had received her, now her affairs no longer require her aid, with prodigious kindness, and had given her and Mr. Price an invitation to spend some [Page 257] weeks at her house; but though I shall always continue on good terms with my aunt, said she, I have had enough of her family, and shall not be in haste to accept her offer.

The formidable day, my Sophia, was passed in our usual way. Lady Aubrey, who always judges with peculiar good sense and propriety, would allow of no forms. Every thing went on as it had done on the preceding day, excepting that the servants and tenants had a ball and plentiful dinner provided for them in the hall; but as there was no necessity for my making my appearance, I merely partook of their mirth from hearing the distant sound of the fiddles from below.

A licence having been procured, Mr. Price performed the ceremony; after which we sat down as usual to our cus­tomary employments, and cards and backgammon divided the evening. Lady Aubrey's agitation during the service [Page 258] almost equalled mine; but thank heaven her spirits of late have been chearful and composed, and I trust every suc­ceeding day will bring her additional comfort and satisfaction.

The company of Lady Linrose, on this occasion, you may suppose was nei­ther expected nor desired. Lord Lin­rose had in a cold letter informed her of the event a few days before it took place; but the presence of Lord Bel­mont, who had written her in a very decisive manner that they must meet no more, afforded an easy pretext for not requesting that of her Ladyship. All the notice Lord Linrose took of this rupture was, to tell her that as his grandfather appeared offended by some private par­ticulars of her Ladyship's conduct, it was not in his power to solicit the ho­nour of a visit from her on the occasion of an event which a multiplicity of mis­representations [Page 259] and mistakes has unhap­pily too long deferred.

On the evening of the day on which we got hither we all walked out, to shew Lord Belmont the beauties of this charming place; and oh! Sophia! what an altered aspect every object wore, from the languor that so lately invested them. Lord Linrose led the way to the spot by the side of the river, once the scene of so much confusion and perplexity to me, when he stole upon me unperceived and first made the discovery of my affections. He had the delicacy however to make no other observation on the occasion than to talk of the romantic beauty of the situa­tion with an enthusiastic admiration that evidently bespoke some secret source of partiality. His looks however were suf­ficiently expressive; and he pressed the hand that leaned on his arm with all the fervour of gratitude. Pray, cried he smiling, what is become of the pretty [Page 260] little child that used to pay you frequent visits here.

I could not recall the teizing curiosity of Charlotte's behaviour without laugh­ing heartily from that pleased sensation with which one recollects past vexations, now converted into enjoyment by the present happy reverse; and I related to my Lord, as we walked, the additional anguish which the little girl's persecution had given me during his mother's visit. Oh! with what gratitude did I raise my heart to heaven for the innumerable blessings that surrounded me.

As it grew late, Lord Belmont, who dreaded the damps of the evening, per­suaded Lady Aubrey to return with him to the house, and Mr. and Mrs. Howard attended them: but my Lord and I pro­longed our walk for a full hour longer. Every object around afforded some in­teresting subject for retracing past un­easiness and for contemplating with de­lighted [Page 261] thankfulness the present happy contrast. Every interview between us was remembered, every conversation where prudence on the one side and ti­midity on the other presided, was anna­lized and investigated, and the secret mo­tives of every action acknowledged.

When at length we returned to the house, we found cards of congratulation from Lady Mary Lawrence and Lady Elizabeth; and this morning I have re­ceived a letter from Lady Linrose her­self, who sends me her felicitations with all the ease of a person who is uncon­scious of ever having intended to injure me. Lord Linrose coloured with indig­nation on perusing it. This is effrontery with a vengeance, said he: but the ap­proach of Lord Belmont sealed his lips.

I have answered her with polite re­serve. She expects, she says, to be fa­voured with a visit from her son and his amiable bride, as soon as the parade [Page 262] of receiving visits is at an end; but I fear it will not be in my power to per­suade Lord Linrose to condescend to this, at least for some time; and I have told her that as we have escaped for the present the disagreeable ceremonials she mentions, by taking up our residence with my brother and sister, we must de­vote some weeks to these duties when Dudley Mount becomes our residence, for which reason it is not in our power to fix any determined period for waiting upon her Ladyship. I have desired to be particularly remembered to the sweet Lucy; and indeed I promise myself much pleasure from cultivating her friendship. Her brother is passionately attached to her; and means if possible to prevail with her to join our family, as the unaccountable preference given by Lady Linrose to Miss Dudley renders home extremely unpleasant, and his [Page 263] mother, he says, he is convinced will have no objection to part with her.

Lord Belmont, whose affection to­wards my sister and me seems hourly to encrease, has presented Fanny with ten thousand pounds. This comfortable ad­dition to Mr. Howard's fortune gives them every thing they desire to possess; for now that Lord Linrose and I are about to settle within four miles of them, Fanny has not a wish beyond the limits of the county, and her husband's taste leads him wholly to the enjoyment of a country life. His Lordship's settlements upon his grandson and me are noble; but as I am very little solicitous about these matters, I shall wave particulars. My Lord, who is fond of rural sports, intends that we shall spend great part of the year at Dudley Mount; a resolution which gives me infinite pleasure. He is sick of the frivolous amusements of London, and I have no pleasure in them. [Page 264] I now possess all my heart can wish, and happy in the society of those I sincerely and fervently love, I wish not to en­large my circle beyond what politeness and propriety demand.

P. S. I have this instant received your letter. I imagined my happy situation would not easily admit of augmentation; but the hopes of so soon embracing and presenting my beloved Sophia to my dear Lord Linrose has overwhelmed me with additional gratitude and delight. Hasten, my Sophia, hasten to your im­patient friend.